


speak the words

by wildcard_47



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: All Tied Up and Nowhere to Go, Except Onto the Ice, M/M, Praise Kink, Two Stubborn Switches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:43:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_47/pseuds/wildcard_47
Summary: After the flogging on Terror, Francis must finally yield to his second.





	speak the words

Standing next to the officer’s table in Terror’s hold after the flogging, with impotent rage and frustration mounting within his chest, Fitzjames decided he had had quite enough of politesse for today. The second the all-hands muster was completed, and all men had returned either to their bunks or to their duties, he had sought out their new expedition leader at the first possible opportunity.

“Captain Crozier. A word.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, James, not now.” Crozier was already motioning for Jopson; probably for whiskey, perhaps for something unrelated. His steward did not immediately appear, which likely meant the man was completely indisposed. “I’m exhausted.”

“This is important.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Jopson still had not returned; Crozier now peered around the doorway for his steward, seeming for all the world like a mangy lost pup looking for its mother. “Today has been hellish long already, and I’ll not spend the rest of it blathering on about some stupid – ”

“By Christ, Francis,” James bellowed, before he could stop himself, “when your second demands to speak with you, it is not a stupid flight of fancy!” 

This shocking outburst caused poor Jopson, now walking through the doorway with a tray at the ready, to jump several centimeters into the air in fright, and even to spill some of Crozier’s precious whisky on the floor.

But this gesture did not seem to startle Crozier, who simply blinked at James as if such an awful display of temper was something quite wondrous to behold.

James bit the inside of his cheek, set his jaw in a mulish way, and strove for further patience. “Whether you like it or not, sir, you are commanding this expedition, and you have necessities which extend beyond the personal. It is imperative that we speak frankly. Right now.”

“Don’t get your damn knickers in a twist. We’ll – ” Crozier glanced around, “ – the berth’s that way, then.”

“No.” Fitzjames stood, swept imperiously toward the corridor. “We shall have this conversation on Erebus.” Less risk of falling prey to the whisky. Fewer little ears to hear them. “Tell Edward where you’re going, and then we’ll ready for the walk back.”

“Christ above, James.” Francis sounded resentful at being so ordered, although he made no move to contradict this request. “If you’re so afraid of the fucking bear-beast, there’s no need to go to such extraordinary lengths for company!”

James did not dignify this accusation with an answer. Ten minutes later, he was nearly into his slops when Francis arrived in the hold with his own, and began to suit up.

“Let’s get this fucking conversation over with, then.”

 

##

 

“Still don’t see why we had to freeze our balls off in order to satisfy your ridiculousness,” Crozier said sourly, once they had reached  _ Erebus  _ and were safely on board. Given the rough winds and the sharp moan of shifting ice, there had been no opportunity to talk on the half-mile journey over. Privately, James thought perhaps this might be for the best. They may very well have ended up brawling in the bergs, were that the case.

“Really? You can conjure up no sensible reason for privacy at all?” James decided he had better tell Francis the particulars before the other Captain became completely cantankerous. “Given tonight’s events, I do not want little Terrors flitting in and around the hold like frightened cats. Attempting to ply you with gifts. Scratching at the door. Speculating wildly. Edward will make sure everyone keeps to their routines till you return.”

“Oh,” said Francis after a moment. Melted ice was now dripping from his nose and cheekbones into the floor. Clearly he could find no flaw with this particular kind of logic.

“Indeed.”

Bridgens was already moving forward to hang up their slops and coats, so there could be little in the way of frank conversation as of yet.

“You could’ve bloody well told me that,” Francis still mumbled.

_ No, I could not have,  _ James thought, but endeavoured to stay calm, as ever.

They descended into the hold, and moved forward into the great cabin; James was pleased to notice that Hoar and Bridgens had already attended to the room and had lit the lamps, so it was less gloomy than usual, even in the polar darkness.

He waited until Bridgens had departed, and the door had closed, before voicing his next question.

“Here is what I cannot understand, truly. Why on earth should you have Hickey punished as a boy?”

“Oh, fucking hell!” Francis ran two fingers through his hair with a growl. “Is that really what you’ve dragged me half a mile across the god-damned ice to inquire after? You saw the way that fucking caulker’s mate mouthed back to us!”

“I am not asking why you had him flogged. The need was clear. His crimes were obvious. I asked why you had him – ”

“No. No. I’ll not hear this, you – ” Francis hiccupped once, interrupting what was sure to be a grand tirade, then seemed mutinous at falling prey to such traitorous bodily functions, and folded both arms across his chest with a frown as he started again. “I’ll not listen to you pick apart every god-damned decision I make!”

“Good lord. It is not so personal as all that. My duty is to advise my expedition leader – to offer you candor in good faith,” James countered flatly. He debated whether he ought to ask the next question at all, but in the end, the need for vital information won out above all else. “Does Hickey have something over you, Francis? Some – comment or exchange? A memo? A private matter?”

“Oh – that is ridiculous!”

“Nevertheless,” James answered tightly, “if he endangers your command…”

“What the bloody hell d’you think I’d’ve ever done with that po-faced lowlife?” Francis boomed. “God above! D’you honestly believe I’ve been buggering Hickey in my berth in the dead of polar night, James?”

“Honestly, Francis, I do not know. And that uncertainty frightens me most of all.” James gave a helpless shrug, and sat down, staring glumly at the half-full water glass that still sat here after this afternoon’s record-keeping. “Consider the shocking way he spoke to you, his expedition commander. That battle of wills. His – obscene tongue-in-cheek gesture. Is it entirely beyond rational belief that an officer – a captain, even – might have so compromised himself, given the length and seclusion of this voyage?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you absolute lunatic! I did not realize such a fact truly needed voicing, but for your benefit and mine, let me be clear: I have not and I never would instigate  _ any fucking liberties  _ with Petty bloody Officer Cornelius fucking-caulker’s mate Hickey!”

He smashed the table with one fist as he concluded the sentence, causing the water glass to upset almost directly into James’s chest, soaking his clothes through.

“Thank you ever so much for that,” sighed James, as he stood up, and slung bits of ice from his waistcoat and shirtsleeves. It was already sodden; he’d have to change. “If you must know, Francis, your advances were not those that most concerned me.”

“My,” and now Francis sounded bewildered, “what?”

James was already peeling off his waistcoat, and hung it carefully over the back of his chair. This done, he started in on his tie and shirtsleeves. “Hickey represents many dangers, Francis, but stupidity is not one of them. I am certain a parley captain of his nature might try to exploit whatever seedy situations he can conjure up.”

“Do you mean to say – ” under better circumstances, James would have quite enjoyed causing Francis to stutter and blush in this manner, “ – you believe that – that  _ ratbag _ – ”

“Has he tried to ingratiate himself in your company in any way? Created casual familiarities of any kind, whilst you are sober or otherwise?”

“I – ” Francis sounded as if he were now dangerously close to laughing, “ – that’s absurd, James.”

“From your perspective, perhaps.” James pulled off his shirt. Despite the circumstances, he did not feel wholly uncomfortable at letting Francis see him in a state of undress. Embarrassed at their conversation, perhaps. Had he been conducting such a dialogue with Sir John, James felt he might have tried to shield his bare chest behind his shirt like a vestal virgin. “But facts are facts, and the facts are thus: one, you are an accomplished hero of high rank yet few intimate friends, two, you often shun the company of others in favor of keeping to yourself and your own cabin, and three - you are known to act on impulse with regards to anything save the ice.”

After carefully wringing out his shirt over the nearest basin, Fitzjames excused himself to his berth. When he returned, in a clean pair of linens and trousers this time, braces hanging around his thighs, and a fresh shirt and waistcoat gripped in one hand, it became apparent that Francis’s mood had changed from bewildered to something entirely different. A guarded, suspicious light had unspooled across his rugged face.

“You don’t really think me a hero.”

James just shrugged; it was a rather pedestrian way to deflect such a question, yet he could think of no other gesture to accommodate his many feelings on the matter. “You and Ross together conquered the majority of the Antarctic pack ice. Your work on magnetism earned you an invitation to the Royal Astronomical Society. Lord, Francis – the  _ Briton _ met the last mutineers from the  _ Bounty _ , for Christ’s sake. Yours is an utterly impressive career. Men like Hickey – ambitious men in general – are bound to take notice of such worthy deeds.”

“And where are these other ambitious men hiding?” Francis was still staring at him as if flummoxed, although he tried for a light and jovial tone as he glanced about the cabin. “Does your concern about my virtue extend to the rest of my esteemed crew? Or yours?”

“Not currently, no,” James said tightly.

“Then, does this concern extend only to the petty officers? Wardroom officers? Or perhaps the senior ones?”

James scrubbed one hand through the front of his hair, wishing very suddenly that he had donned his shirt at the earliest possible opportunity. Quickly, he remedied this issue. “Quite frankly, I do not appreciate such mockery at the best of times, but particularly whilst I am trying to give you good counsel.”

“Counsel, is it? James, you insinuate that a petty officer of my crew should try to – to seize me bodily for some nefarious, dare I say pornographic, purpose and yet no man but yourself stands before me in a state of undress – ”

“Damn it, Francis, I saw the look in your eyes as you gave the order!”

James tossed his waistcoat to the ground in a fit of pique, which caused Francis to give a rather unsteady double-take.

“Do not play me for a fool, because I glimpsed some part of the truth. You challenged his very manhood. You wanted Hickey to scream. You dared him to yield. Not because it is duty that burns deep in your breast, but for a feeling far wilder and more savage.”

“Is that so, now?” And Francis had the nerve to grin at him, almost wolfish. “And what do you know of such a look on a man, James? When wild, savage feelings overtake his reason?”

His rejoinder was immediate. “I know when I am being prodded, sir.”

In a flash, James had closed the distance between them, tipped Francis’s chair backwards until the back of it hit the table, leaving him propped in the air at an angle, legs splayed out for purchase and finding none. Just as quickly, he braced himself in front of the chair, so Francis could not lower it. Both his hands closed around the lip of the table, effectively pinning his fellow Captain in this vulnerable place.

“I know when a man hides lust in his eyes.”

“So I see,” murmured Francis, quiet but faintly amused.

“And now I ask you in earnest, Francis:  _ do you yield?  _ Will you not tell me the truth?”

“No, James.” Francis had the nerve to cock one eyebrow in a roguish manner. He was still smiling slightly, although a small, shocked flame had sparked behind his blue eyes. “Not as bad as all that.”

“Oh no? Then let us raise the takings. I could tie your hands behind with your cravat,” James stepped even further into Francis’s space, feeling the sudden cinch of the Captain’s thighs and the hard edge of the chair dig into his hips. Still, he persisted, bringing one of his hands down to Crozier’s knee, tracing a small path up his inner thigh. He stopped halfway up the thick muscle, quietly noted how well-defined the man's legs were. “Do with you what I see fit for minutes, even hours at a time, until you relent to my questioning.”

Francis’s thighs twitched toward each other, and he made a soft humming noise.

“Would you come clean then, hm?”

“I’ve nothing to hide, James,” rasped Francis again, though his voice was deeper and rougher, now. Wide-eyed and gaping slightly, he was staring at James as if they were strangers. “Do with me what you will.”

“You are playing a dangerous game with me, Francis.” Reaching out, James tugged off Crozier’s tie, and loosely bound his fellow captain’s hands to the back of the chair; not so tight that he could not squirm or buck up, but just taut enough to frustrate him. This accomplished, he walked the fingertips of one hand up the visible seam of Francis’s trousers, relishing the intake of breath this prompted. “But unlike some persons in this room, I possess nearly infinite patience. Now. Tell me why you provoked him.”

“Did no such thing.” A shiver ran through Francis’s body as James cupped his fellow captain’s thigh with that same hand; he moved a firm path upward toward the hinge of his hip before squeezing softly at Francis’s quadricep, still concealed by dark rough wool.

“But you did.” James gave his fellow captain a most vexed glare, although his hand crept ever closer to the now-noticeable bulge in Francis’s trousers. “And if you will simply admit to it, and tell me why, I shall reward you very handsomely indeed.”

“Honestly, James.” How Francis still managed to form sentences was impressive, although he was clearly affected by such prolonged tenderness. James saw the muscles working in his throat as he swallowed, once. “If this is how you h - handle insubordination on  _ Erebus _ , I am beginning to understand why y – you’re so well-liked – ”

“Goodness.” The jest coaxed a laugh from James’s throat; as recompense, he removed his hand from Francis’s leg, placed it directly over where the fellow’s hard prick met his stones, and squeezed, very firmly. “Why, Francis. The cheek of such an accusation.”

Francis made a soft mewling noise.

“Is that what you think of me?” James stopped his caresses, but did not remove his hand just yet. “That I must flatter and cajole and wheedle compliance from my men by force?”

“No,” breathed Francis, in the smallest of concessions.

“Good man,” replied James, and slowly stroked up the length of Francis’s prick; the  _ Terror  _ captain’s eyes fluttered closed. “I believe, as a proper captain should, in giving both compliments and critique where they are due. And it pleases me for you to take notice of such methods.”

A muffled  _ oh  _ of pleasure escaped Francis’s lips as James’s fingers brushed over his head; he let the light touch linger until Crozier shifted in his seat, impatient.

“Mmph. I’ll not – ’s nothing improper, James.”

“Is it not?” James made a considering noise. “Tell me more.”

“I – well, I’ve hardly – talked to the man, save once.”

“Ah ha.” This declaration was rewarded with another long, slow stroke; Francis’s breath hitched in his throat. “Do enlighten me, please.”

“He – there was a draft.” Francis was trembling slightly, now. “In the seat of ease. He came to repair it.”

“And you spoke to him, obviously.”

“Yes.”

“Good man.” James squeezed the  _ Terror  _ captain again, and began to increase the speed and frequency of his strokes. Francis made a pleased noise. “And of what, pray tell, did you speak on that occasion?”

“About – his accent.” Francis’s eyes were dark with lust, and his breath had quickened in a frantic way. “‘S all.”

“Perhaps so.” James stilled his hand, causing Crozier to whine in protest. “And perhaps not. I shall know if you are lying to me, Francis. Indeed, I insist on honesty between us, if I am to be your true second.”

“Come on.”

His hips were tilting into James’s hand. 

“Shall I inquire as to the first question again? Will you yield?”

“Mmph!” Crozier threw his head back against the seat, fidgeting against his bonds. “God.”

“If you choose to do so, I shall make it worth your while,” James whispered, darting a purposeful glance downward, to where his hand covered Francis’s buttons. Francis’s eyes widened. “Imagine how I should act, were I very, very pleased with your conduct.”

“I – ” a sheen of sweat had broken out on Francis’s brow “ – for god’s sake, James, don’t be such a fucking tease.”

“Never that,” James told him, with a sharp, winning smile, and a soft laugh. “I am many things, Francis, but coquettish is not one of them.”

“Bollocks,” growled Francis. “You’re more coy than a dancing matron.”

Surprisingly, this startled another laugh from James; he decided, in that moment, to be more generous. “Who could have guessed you possessed such humour, Francis?”

Slowly, almost torturously so, he undid Francis’s buttons, and slipped his hand inside thick Navy-issue trousers; Francis made a choked, wheezing noise as James explored over the hard ridge here, barely concealed by the man’s linens.

“Hard t’be begrudging when you’re – oh! – doing  _ that _ .”

“Mm.” James decided to change topics. “Now. Tell me more about this visit.”

“God.” Francis was panting slightly, now. James shifted position so that his hips now sat flush against one of Francis’s calves. He was painfully prick-forward. “‘S really nothing, James. I said nothing improper.”

“I am sure you made no advances,” James conceded, and rubbed the pad of his thumb over the tip of Francis’s head; the  _ Terror  _ captain groaned aloud, and set his jaw to stay quiet. “But perhaps you encouraged other familiarities. Did you give him something to use against you in future? Did you let slip any important information?”

“I, er,” and here, Francis faltered for the first time, “we shared a glass. Whiskey. He said I gave him hope for – f’others like us.”

“Like you? What does that mean?” asked James in perplexity, the game quite forgotten for a moment.

“He’s Irish, as well.” Francis’s hips tilted upward into James’s hand, seeking relief. “Sounds as if he’s not even spent an hour in Dublin.”

A ha. Here was perhaps where the swordpoint had pierced Francis’s heel.

“And how does that sit with you, Francis? Tell me truly.”

“Christ.” 

A dark, patchy flush had bloomed all across Francis’s face. Idly, James wondered if such a riot of color had spread all the way down to his chest and stomach, or if he instead went pale with want save for the sunset swell of his purple-red cock.

After another moment, Francis finally answered the question. “‘M – covetous of it.”

“Oh, Francis.” James rewarded this honesty by pulling his fellow captain’s hardness from his linens, and beginning to stroke him in earnest. “Good man.”

“There,” whispered Francis, on the edge of a sigh.

“And did you express such envy aloud, hm?”

“No. Oh, that’s good.”

“But you spoke of shared heritage.” Though he was monstrous distracted, James had finally begun to puzzle out the true reason behind Hickey’s insubordination. If he felt that his Captain, a fellow Irishman, was driven by such petty feelings as jealousy or anger over an accent – or lack of one – perhaps that only served to make him a scornful figure, instead of a figure of authority. “And what else?”

“I – I don’t know,” gasped Francis, now trembling rather hard.

Immediately, James let go of Francis’s cock, and moved his hand instead to Francis’s stomach, hardening his voice. “Remember our bargain, sir. You shall be truthful with me in order to gain your reward. Else I shall have to punish you.”

“Chrissakes.” Francis made a resentful noise. James withdrew his hand even further, now removing it from Francis’s body entirely, and placing both hands back against the table. “Please.”

“Give me reason to continue,” James told him, although his own enjoyment at this game was abundantly clear. He kept pushing his own hard prick up against Francis’s leg, striving quietly for release. “Prove your need to me, Francis.”

“You can bloody well feel my fucking need,” Francis growled through gritted teeth, but this show of Irish temper was soon contradicted by a low moan. “Hurts.”

“And yet you refuse to yield.” In another display of pique, James leaned forward till his ear was just level with Francis’s ear, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I could leave you here in this condition all night.”

“Don’t,” panted Francis.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t – ” a little huff “ – bloody ridicule me! I’ll not forgive you that, not ever.”

A pause. Some of the fog receded from James’s head. “What do you mean, you would not forgive me?”

“Mmph. Just – y’mustn’t hold it over me.” Francis exhaled two deep breaths, shut his eyes for a moment. “Like the god-damned stories and Sir John’s favour ‘n all th’rest.”

“Wh – Francis.” James pulled back for a moment, so he could look the man directly in the eyes. “Look at me. That was never the reason I – ”

He stopped, cleared his throat in an attempt to gather his thoughts. As if drawn like a moth to a flame, his hands returned to Francis’s knees, in a friendlier, almost brotherly way this time. 

“If I seem prideful, or a braggart, or – any number of things – it is because I sense my own deficiencies. A man makes his name based on his conduct whilst in command. And I have neither Arctic experience nor reputation enough to allow myself to waver. Not even the smallest faltering.”

Francis had begun to tremble, more noticeably this time. “Oh.”

“Is childish cruelty all you have ever expected from me, Francis?” James could not express how distressing such an idea was to him, both as a man and as this expedition’s second. One thumb now rubbed a small path against Francis’s right knee.

“You’ve always hated me.” Another whine; he bucked up in vain. “Mmph!”

James ran his hands up Francis’s thighs. “Because you scorned me.” He ducked his head, tried to breathe through the pounding in his chest and his head. “Actually, if you must know, I am angry at your reticence. Envious of your knowledge. And with Sir John gone, I need your conversation, your good opinion – perhaps even your friendship – more than ever.”

He lifted his head, and they stared at each other for several seconds in silence. 

Francis’s tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke again, no louder than a whisper.  “I – I yield, James.”

James blinked, once. Twice.

“What?”

“Please,” said Francis again, on the edge of a desperate whine. “I’ll say it again. Jus’ – don’t stop.”

“Good Christ.” James groaned as loudly as if prodded by a searing brand, and slipped his hand back into Francis’s linens, reveling in the low, choked noise this provoked in the  _ Terror  _ captain; the way the hard-backed chair squeaked under him. “Oh, Francis.”

“Yes, James. God, yes. Keep talking,” murmured the Irishman.

“Let me please you, hm? You’ve waited so long. Been so damn good.”

“I have done. Yes. Yes.”

“And I adore that. I know how impatient you can get.” James began to tug at Francis’s cock again, reveling in this magic as his fellow captain twitched and flexed under his attentions. “Oh, Francis. Do you not see I only want the best for us both?”

“God!” Francis’s face was bright red, now, and he was panting again. “James, that’s – ‘s bloody perfect – ”

“Yes. Just there.” James leaned in again, kissed Francis’s neck and ear; this elicited a desperate noise as he struggled up against his bonds. The chair now rocked slightly back and forth, thanks to their combined movements, and the increased way James now thrust against Francis’s leg. “Want you to feel good, Francis. Want to please you. You deserve satisfaction.”

“I – I – ”

“Let go for me, Francis.” James dragged his teeth over Francis’s earlobe after he spoke; Francis bucked up again with an unvoiced sob, clenching his teeth in an attempt to keep silent. “I’ll not deny your pleasure. I’ll not keep you from it. Don’t hold back.”

“Oh, fuck, James, ‘m – ”

And with a muffled groan, Francis came, thrusting into James’s hand, straining against the chair and with legs akimbo. Still balanced against the table, the chair squeaked obscenely under them, but Francis did not seem to notice nor care. Soon as he had his wits back, he was turning his head, capturing James’s mouth with his.

“Untie me. Untie me,” he rasped between savage kisses. “Want to – ”

James obeyed, and let Francis’s chair settle back against the hardwood; once this was done, Francis pulled him forward until James was practically straddling his lap, and quickly reciprocated, opening James’s trousers and tugging at his aching prick with excitement and wonder in his eyes, until James shuddered and clung to his fellow captain as tightly as ice around a propeller, shooting in his linens without shame.

They did not remain together long after this conclusion; James withdrew from the  _ Terror  _ Captain’s lap and stood up once his legs finally steadied out, Francis stretched and re-fastened his tie, and both men used the remaining water in the basin to clean up as best they could. 

So it was not until James had made himself nearly presentable again, and was tugging still-wet fingers through the roots of his long hair, blindly fumbling for his comb on the nearby bureau, when Francis spoke again.

“I told him we were confident of leads in the west. Ah. Hickey, that is.”

A pause. James was careful not to react, just kept combing his hair. “When?”

“After we toasted. Said he had gulled the world.” Francis cleared his throat. The slight flush on his face was perhaps due to more than their recent exertions. “Said  _ I applaud you. _ ” Another pause. “More folly than it’s worth, in the end.”

“Well.” James put his comb aside, let out a shaky breath. “While terribly thick-headed, Francis, that is much less worrisome than I had feared.”

Francis still seemed good-humoured after his resolution, and did not seem to take umbrage to James’s observation, just raised an eyebrow in turn, and gave him a crooked smile. “Your honest counsel is noted.”

Surprised by this jape, James decided he had never seen Francis so positively merry – least, by comparison to his usual melancholic disposition. He found himself wondering how long it might last, and whether such good cheer would continue into the dark morning.

“And now I suppose I have trapped you on  _ Erebus  _ long enough.” James gave him a small, slightly-awkward sort of smile. “If you need rest after such a long day, please don’t let me keep you.”

Francis stared at him, and cleared his throat a final time. “Well, I – if we’re already here together, we could – discuss headlines, or a few pressing matters before tomorrow’s meeting. If you should be amenable.”

“Yes.” Fitzjames’s smile was one of wide and genuine relief, this time. “Yes, I, ah, could be persuaded for a brief discussion.”

“Can you be persuaded for a nightcap?” Francis asked gruffly.

James’s cheer dimmed slightly, although he refused to show this change of mood, lest Francis take umbrage to his candor at last. Of course he would try to get whisky out of a situation such as this. Of course it was not about repairing their strained bonds.

“I’ll have Hoar bring us a little brandy,” he finally answered, and gestured to the table with one hand, as gallant as if ushering in the entire officer’s party. "Please. Sit."

**Author's Note:**

> YEAH, so I was watching "Gore" the other day and realized James has a looooot of anger after Sir John dies, and no way to express it. And between yelling at Francis, snarking at everyone else, and altogether being a surly and tired and repressed bitch, I figured he'd blow his lid after "Punished, As A Boy." So here we have snarky!top James who secretly wants to please his First, and stubborn!bottom Francis who has a praise kink.


End file.
